


Wake Up Call

by Jonjo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bruises, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 00:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jonjo/pseuds/Jonjo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles’ Sunday begins</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Up Call

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Full Moon Ficlet weekly challenge #3 Prompt: Bruises

He wakes, breathing easily, comfortable, warm. His mind still in a sleepy fuzz, a happy sleepy fuzz. And that kick starts his ponderings.

_‘He doesn’t do happy, doesn’t not do happy, not on purpose but happy isn’t usual and definitely not usually comfortable.’_

He checks: breathes deeply and relaxes back into his pillows.

_‘And yeah, definitely comfortable and happy and warm. Warm’s good, really good. It’s been cold lately, really cold, frost on the inside of the windows cold. But this morning he is warm, comfortable and happy.’_

He doesn’t bother to open his eyes just snuggles back down into the blankets and dozes off.

 

Waking at the sound of his father’s voice, he realises he’s cold. At the second shout he gets up.

_‘No point staying in a cold bed, a hot shower would be better.’_

He stumbles through his door, shouting his reply and heads for the bathroom.

The warm water does its work well. Slowly waking his brain and soothing his body. He starts to let the world in, letting go of the peace of his immediate surroundings and contemplating the day.

_‘It’s Sunday, still the weekend, no need to rush. No need to hurry, slow easy shower, slow easy breakfast, slow easy day.’_

 

He steps out of the shower, wraps himself in a towel and reaches for his toothbrush. Running the cold water begins to clear the steam from the mirror.

He looks up and blinks his face into focus. His cheeks and neck seem overly red and blotchy, slightly sore.

_‘Maybe the water was too hot this morning or the wind too cold last night, probably both.’_

 

He shrugs and returns to his room.

Pulls clothes from his closet and throws them on the bed. Pulls off his towel and starts to dry his body.

There are small marks, over his hip... hips... matching. He freezes and stares and his brain finally surfaces from the last of the fuzz.

_‘Warmth, comfort, happiness... bruises.’_

 

“Fuck!”

“Derek.”

 


End file.
